


Promises, promises

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Oral Sex, Whoffaldi, whouffaldi, whouffle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i></i>He shook his head solemnly. “A kiss is a promise. A promise you don’t intend to keep is tantamount to a lie.”</p><p>“I keep my promises.” She whispered, as unshed tears she couldn’t quite explain stung the backs of her eyes. “Especially to you.” </p><p>He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. “But to keep one promise to me, you’d be breaking another.”<i><i></i></i></p><p>Whouffaldi hurt/comfort with some humor and smut thrown in for good measure ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises, promises

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started out way more light-hearted and then... feels happened...

“You still like soufflés, yes?”

Clara looked up from the book she was reading. “Yes, I suppose I do. Been a while since I’ve had one. Why?”

“I have one for you.” The Doctor approached, holding something that did not look like it could possibly contain a soufflé.

She closed the book and placed it on the table next to the chair she was occupying. “Well, thanks. But… why?”

The Doctor made a dismissive motion with his free hand. “As arbitrary as birthdays really are in the continuum of space and time, I have heard that your people enjoy celebrating them.”

“So, you made me a soufflé?” She eyed the box in his hand apprehensively.

“Certainly not. But I did obtain one. It is in the kitchen. Wherever the kitchen is, these days. I’m sure we’ll find it before the soufflé goes off. Also, here.” He placed a rectangular object that had been poorly wrapped in wrinkled newspaper and taped within an inch of its inanimate life into her hands. “It’s a… thing. I know you like them.”

Clara laughed. “I do like things. Some of them, anyway.” She gingerly hefted the object. “It won’t, erm, bite or try to run away, or something, will it?”

His eyes shifted to the side and then back. “Not on this planet, they don’t.”

Clara pursed her lips, pulling at layer after layer of sticky tape and dusty paper. Eventually, a leather-bound book was revealed. The spine glinted with fresh gold lettering. “Pride and Prejudice!” she exclaimed.

“First edition.” The Doctor preened.

An enormous smile lit Clara’s face as she turned the book over. The cover fell open and inside there was something circled in pencil. Peering closer, Clara could see it was the publication date. She huffed, looking up at the Doctor, who met her gaze with a bland expression.

“Are you joking?”

His brow furrowed. “Am I? I’m not always certain.”

She gestured to the date. “You got me a present so you could prove you were right about something you said… I don’t even know how long ago!”

The Doctor spread his hands in front of him, palms up. “So, it’s a present we can both enjoy.”

Clara narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not really the point of a present, Doctor.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Opinion or fact?”

“Both. Or... neither.” She shook her head. “Nevermind. Thank you. It’s lovely.” Clara leaned back in the chair and began to peruse her present.

The Doctor lingered in front of her and after a moment, she lifted her gaze back to him.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?”

“You are… less than pleased, I take it.” He cocked his head to the side, his face unreadable.

“Nonsense.” Clara deposited the new book next the previous and rose to her feet. “I’m happy with my present. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“Your face doesn’t look happy.”

Clara rolled her eyes, fighting back a snippy reply. “Let’s not talk about my face, yeah?” She lightly grasped his forearms, relishing the way he no longer tensed under her touch. He was warmer than she had expected. “I like that you wanted to do something nice for me. Haven’t you ever heard that it’s the thought that counts?”

His mouth twisted. “That’s just what people say when the results are disappointing.”

She ran her hands up to his shoulders. “I think you’re just fishing for a compliment on your gift-giving skills.” She teased.

He gave a small shrug, his mouth quirking upward.

She moved her hands to frame his face, pulling him down slightly, so they were eye level. There was such a wealth of affection in the eyes that met hers. For a moment, she felt dizzy with it. Heat flared in her belly and she fought the urge to press her body to his. It had been a while since they were this close together.

 Since she had come back onboard after Christmas, they had become increasingly comfortable with one another. He reached for her hand as they strolled together, even enduring a few goodnight hugs and kisses on the cheek. But that was where it ended.

At first, Clara had been relieved that their dynamic had changed so little. Christmas had been a revelation and she had needed time to process everything. As the months passed, however, Clara realized that some part of her was still waiting for a sign that it was ok to feel the way she did about The Doctor. Her affection for him was still so inexorably tied to her guilt over Danny. The five minutes per day that she allowed herself to grieve became a meditation on her own faults. This, in turn, enhanced her guilt at not even being able to mourn him properly.

Traveling with The Doctor was still her escape, but now…  now there was an edge to it that had never been there before. Something akin to desperation, though she would never willingly use the word.

Clara was sick of feeling bad for not feeling bad enough. She was sick of swallowing words just on the tip of her tongue.

Holding The Doctor’s face firmly in both hands, Clara finally touched her lips to his. There wasn’t a force on Earth (or any other planet) that could have stopped her. It was quite chaste as far as kisses went, but it felt like a taste of victory when The Doctor didn’t immediately pull away.

Sadly, the victory was fleeting, as he reeled backwards.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slack. “Why… why would you do that?”

Clara dropped her hands to her sides with a sigh.  “Because I wanted to.”

“We… you… I… you and I… we don’t do… that.” He ground out, two points of vibrant color high on his cheeks.

 “Well, why not?”

They shared a growingly uncomfortable silence. The Doctor looking completely flummoxed.

In a last ditch attempt to salvage the moment, Clara leaned in once more. But The Doctor danced away.

As usual, he steadied himself by fidgeting with the console controls and yammering on about galaxies. Clara stepped closer, nibbling her lower lip, thoughtfully.

“…system with three planets. Well, actually, the third planet is really a moon but don’t tell the inhabitants that. What do you say?”

Clara slid her hand over one of his, perched on a lever, to still it. He stared down at where she touched him, as though he suddenly couldn’t quite remember what hands were for.

“You didn’t answer my question, Doctor.”

 “I thought it was rhetorical. “ He demurred, not meeting her eyes.

She stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips. “You don’t mind me touching you, anymore.” Growing more adventurous, she tickled at the flesh of his wrist, just under his cuff. Her efforts were rewarded with a soft hitch of his breath. “A kiss is just another kind of touch…” She ventured, moving into his space. She ducked under his arm until she was wedged between him and the console. He remained standing rigidly, hand still affixed to the lever.  A gentle touch to one cheek brought his eyes back to hers. His nostrils flared and his Adam’s apple bobbed, but his gaze was steady.

“I thought we agreed: No more lying.” His voice was low and tight, his accent thick.

Clara’s jaw dropped. “I wasn’t!” She frowned. “Are you saying you would be?”

He shook his head solemnly. “A kiss is a promise. A promise you don’t intend to keep is tantamount to a lie.”

“I keep my promises.” She whispered, as unshed tears she couldn’t quite explain stung the backs of her eyes. “Especially to you.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. “But to keep one promise to me, you’d be breaking another.”

And there it was.

The whole ugly, shameful truth. The monster of her own making that had wedged its way between them.

The tears broke through, then, cascading down her cheeks. Choking, gasping sobs shook her shoulders and she leaned back against the console to keep her knees from buckling. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her. Her head fell to his chest and he held her gently, as if frightened she would shatter completely.

Suddenly, she was no longer standing. The Doctor had swept her into his arms and carried her to the large armchair where she had been reading earlier. He was about to put her down into the chair, when she grasped at his shoulders.

“No! Sit with me? Please?” Something at the back of her mind reminded her that she may be taking advantage of the situation to push him past his comfort zone. She swiped uselessly at her tear soaked cheeks and turned her face to his. “If… if you don’t mind, that is.” She amended through shuddering breaths

He hesitated briefly but nodded, his face all tenderness.  He eased into the big chair and arranged her sideways onto his lap. Her legs hung slightly over the arm, but it would do. Selfish though it may have been, she wasn’t ready to stop touching him, yet. One hand began rhythmically stroking her hair. Knowing how little she deserved it, she clung to him and just cried harder.

When she had quieted to just the occasional hiccup, she noticed that he was humming something. It was soothing.

“Is that a lullaby?” Her voice was barely a croak and she covered her mouth, self-consciously.

He nodded. “Gallifreyan. It tells the story of a Time Lord and Lady who defied their parents’ wishes and ran away into the stars, together.”

She swallowed. “It sounds very romantic.”

“Hmm, not entirely. They meet a rather grisly end in an unexpected supernova.”

“That’s terrible!”

He shifted her slightly, freeing one hand to brush her hair away from her upturned face. “It was meant as a morality tale, not a fairy tale.”

“Sort of a ‘listen to your elders’ theme?” She reached for his hand and clasped it in hers. Familiar territory.

He made a sound of agreement.

“Didn’t work very well on you.” Clara asserted.

“No.” The hint of a smile hovered around his mouth. “I suppose I was always the stubborn sort.”

“Your words, not mine.” She teased lightly, entwining the fingers of their joined hand. The Doctor gave a soft chuckle and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She snuggled closer.

There was a long silence, far more comfortable this time.

At last, he cleared his throat. “I don’t expect anything from you, Clara. I’m happy just to have you here, travel with you by my side. We don’t need to change things.”

Clara nodded sleepily against his shoulder, completely wrung out from her earlier exertions. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed each fingertip. On a whim, she nibbled lightly at his forefinger, flicking it with her tongue.

The Doctor shifted his weight beneath her again, his breathing growing heavier. “Clara…” there was a warning in his voice.

“Sorry,” She mumbled, releasing his hand. Then she thought the better of it. 

“Actually,” She pulled herself up to a sitting position, curling her legs next to his and propping herself up with one hand on the chair arm. “I’m not sorry, not for that, anyway. I’m not sorry for caring about you, Doctor. And I’m not sorry for wanting you. I can’t help the way I feel, the way I’ve always felt. I tried and I thought I’d moved on. And I loved Danny Pink. I loved him more than I ever thought I could love anyone. But whatever I feel for you… I can’t even use the right words… It’s not just love or lust or any emotion I’ve ever learned how to recognize. It’s just a part of me. You are a part of me, Doctor. Just as I’m forever in your timeline, you are in mine. As short and fleeting and meaningless as my lifetime might seem compared to yours, it's all I’ve got and it means everything to me. _You_ mean everything to me, Doctor! Why can’t you see that?” She sat back, breathless.

“Oh…” A whirlwind of expressions she couldn’t define flit across his face in a moment.

Her lip trembled as she observed him, terrified that she had gone too far. “I… I’ll just…” She began to slide from his lap, but his grip on her tightened, holding her in place.

“Clara… I…” His free hand came once more to her cheek, the thumb stroking it softly as his fingers buried in her hair. And then, his mouth was on hers, hard and desperate, fervent with yearning.

With an inward sigh, she melted against him. Her mouth opened under his. He groaned his satisfaction and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring her thoroughly. The hand in her hair was massaging her scalp as his other hand moved to her waist. She shifted so that she could straddle his lap, bringing her increasingly wet heat into direct contact his growing erection. A jolt of purely primal satisfaction shot through her and she gasped. The hand on her waist traveled down to grip her bum through the fabric of her short skirt.

From this new position, she could bury her hands in his silver curls, which she did with alacrity. She could feel him grin against her mouth as she ran her hands through them, tugging lightly at the ends. She nipped his lower lip and his hips bucked against her.

She felt his questing hands descend to the hem of her jumper, fiddling with it but not moving it up. He was asking for permission, some less lust-addled part of her brain realized.

She pulled away just enough to pull the jumper off, smirking fondly at the dazed expression on his face. His chest rose and fell heavily and his hair seemed to be going in all directions at once. She was certain she looked much the same. She grasped his hands and brought them to the front of her blouse. He took the hint, unfastening each pearly button in turn. She bit back a laugh at the intensity of focus he turned to the task at hand.

How had they waited so long to do this? How had she thought she could ever stop herself from needing him?

He slid the blouse down her shoulders and leaned in to savor her newly exposed skin. She shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor. It was only clothing. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as much as the man (or Time Lord, rather) presently between her thighs.

He made her life an adventure and showed her wonders. 

He would (and did) go to Hell for her.

And he was currently doing some truly remarkable things to her neck... Where had he even learned that?  

She rolled her hips, eager for more contact. He released a growl and she felt it vibrate on her skin and shivered against him. She tugged at his jumper but he distracted her by mouthing her breast through the fabric of her bra. With another nod of consent, that barrier was also removed and his mouth soon closed around one sensitive nipple as his hand fondled the other. His clever mouth and hands lavished both breasts with attention and before long she was whimpering, too far gone to be embarrassed about her neediness.

She shifted to increase the pressure between her legs, rocking against his hard length. His hands at her hips guided her movements until she felt she’d go mad if she couldn’t have more sensation. 

Wanting to feel him skin to skin, she plucked again at the offending jumper, pulling it in her fists until he leaned forward to let her remove it and the vest beneath. Her hands fell to the straining zipper of his trousers but he batted them away.

“Is something wrong, Doctor?” She moved her hands to the chair arms. “Too much?”

His lips thinned for moment before relaxing into a small smile. “I’d rather touch you, that’s all.” He cupped one of her breasts, as if for emphasis.

“I like you touching me. Very much. But… I want to touch you, too.” Clara tried to quiet the persistent throb of arousal long enough to articulate her thoughts. “Doctor… if this isn’t want you want, we don’t have to. I don’t want you doing this just for me.”

The Doctor looked confused. Clara suddenly felt overly exposed, sitting on his lap in only her skirt and a thoroughly soaked pair of knickers. She began to cover herself up with her arms, but The Doctor reached out and took both of her hands in his.

“I wouldn’t be ‘doing this just for you’, Clara.” His voice was as gentle as she’d ever heard it. “I haven’t… this body hasn’t done this at all. I don’t know what to expect.”

A wave of relief washed over her. “Is that all?”

He raised an eyebrow at her but Clara just shook her head, giggling. She edged back, off of his legs and lowered herself to the floor. Looking to him for any indication that she was unwelcome, she slowly unzipped his trousers and reached in to grasp him. He inhaled sharply at the contact but did not push her away. He was hot, achingly hard, and smooth as silk in her hand. She slid her hand along his length, never breaking eye contact. He shuddered, his mouth falling open, as she ran her thumb over the moisture at the tip. She gave him a cheeky smile before leaning forward to tease the head with her tongue. His hand came to rest lightly in her hair and she took it for encouragement. She swirled her tongue in circles a few more times before taking him fully into her mouth. She took him deeply before pulling back, hollowing out her cheeks, and plunging forward again. The hand in her hair tightened as she set up a steady rhythm. Soon, he jerked against her, moaning something that might have started as her name as she swallowed his release.

Panting and wild-eyed, The Doctor crooned her name. “Clara, please. Let me…?”

She wiped her mouth and smirked. “I won’t say no…”

Clara shed her knickers – ruined anyway by now- and they traded places quickly. The Doctor knelt at her feet, parting her legs almost reverently. His thumbs found the creases of her thighs, framing her pudenda with his hands, as he kissed the inside of each thigh. His breath on the soft skin there almost tickled and she squirmed with anticipation. He took his time, tasting every inch of skin on the way up to where she needed him most. He was the calm before the storm. The first flick of his tongue to her dripping center released a tsunami. Suddenly he was devouring her, sensations rolling over her in crests and peaks. She clawed at his shoulders, his hair, anything she could reach, in frenzy. When she broke, the very air around them seemed to quake with it.

Clara lolled in the chair, boneless against the rough brocade. The Doctor tended her through shimmering aftershocks, murmuring sweet nothings in a language she assumed was Gallifreyan. She reached down to pet his hair, absentmindedly.

“I’d never really realized how useful this chair was.” She murmured, half drowsing.

“Mmh. If I’d known, I’d have peppered the console room with chairs just like this one.” He rubbed against her hand like a cat, making a contented sound and she laughed.

“Even if you did, I think this would be my favorite.”

“If you like me in a chair, you ought to see what I can do with a table.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

A tingle of anticipation ran through her. “I’ll hold you to that, Doctor.”

“Please do.”

 

 

 

                                                                                      


End file.
